Home Is Where The Art Is.

The girl with ocean eyes
Stares at the ocean
Each ripple dwindles
With the touch of air.
Like it’s all for a flair
The ocean in it’s tidal lustre
Her eyes determined never to fluster

The boy with magic fingers
Gazes at his fingers
Is there really magic?
Wouldn’t this end tragic?
He hopes to find a relief in his belief
Make a symphony out of that which has no melody
Magic is the art from the heart
The goal from the soul
And his fingers though jagged at the edges
He would never go back on his pledges

The writer with the blank sheet and blank brain stares into blank space
Maybe ideas and potentials come from space
Maybe imaginations only slow the pace
But she’s going to remain in the race
Become better to the letter even if bound by fetters
Even if the thousand word won’t express the surd
And she would never stop leading
Because her pen would never stop bleeding

21/09/21